


With Colours Painted On

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, Drag Queens, Explosions, Explosives, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mistaken Identity, Organized Crime, Past Sexual Assault, Pole Dancing, Prostitution, Team as Family, Undercover, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: "It's really hard to see, with colors painted on."Clockwerk is gone...or is he? And is he really the biggest threat to Sly's future? Or is there someone else pulling the strings?What if that someone had been there all along, waiting and watching from the shadows?What if that someone...was related to your best friend?((Please mind the tags! This is a much darker universe than the one we are used to!))
Relationships: Carmelita Fox/Neyla, Conner Cooper/Original Character(s), Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox, rajan/original characters
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwampySweetSketch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampySweetSketch/gifts).



Sly woke up to neon lights shining through his window. There was a sort of comfort in the pinks, purples, and blues peaking in through the slats of his blinds. It was the city--his city--alive at night, when all of the mundane, 9-5 people were safe in their beds. This was when the real fun began, and when those who were truest to themselves, reigned.

Sly rolled over in bed, luxuriating in his soft sheets, hands behind his head as he listened to the sounds of the night. Through the thin wall, he could hear Murray’s music playing in the next room, and knew Bentley was already up and about, as was his nature. 

Sly closed his eyes and let himself just breathe for a few long moments. He missed dancing, the way the pole felt in his hands, the way his heart raced as he prepared for a difficult trick, the rush of being the center of attention as he spun, the excitement of the world viewed upside-down. It was almost as fun as thieving, which had been handed to him in the form of a book, The Thevius Raccoonus. His family lineage, of which he was the last. At least for now. But thinking about starting a family made him queasy, so he didn’t.

The lithe raccoon sighed, turning towards his nightstand, noticing that his phone’s white light cut through the relative darkness, and he sat up, curious. The number had no name, just BLOCKED CALLER in big bold letters with a single text: “Hey gorgeous.”

Sly scowled, dismissing the text and casting his sheets away, changing out of his pajamas and into his usual attire; a navy and black striped long sleeve shirt that fit him well but not too snug, an oversized belt fastened at his waist, and his lucky pouch, which he looped through the belt since he didn’t have a job on for tonight. He stood before his full-length mirror, eyeing the shadows around his eyes and, after a moment’s thought, lined his eyes with a black pencil liner. It would help to hide how tired he looked. Maybe. Somehow, Bentley and Murray always knew when he was hiding. That made him smile.

Sly fluffed up his tail and, after some internal debate, grabbed his phone and headed out to the main living space, lit only by one of Bentley’s many computer screens and the old TV on mute. Sly hopped onto the arm of the old sofa, staring at Bentley’s screen. “Whatchya doin?”

Bentley pushed his silver tortoise shell glasses up his nose. “Programming a bot to look for photos of you on the dark web.”

Sly winced, feeling his fur stand on end. “Probably a good idea,” he sighed, handing over his phone. “Look who texted me tonight.”

Bentley frowned. “I blocked all of his known numbers, and it’s clear he can’t call you on this.” The turtle turned the phone over in his hands, the blue light glinting off the gold signet ring on his right pinky, humming. “Is it okay if I take this for the night? I can look into reprogramming it for you.”

Sly shrugged. “Knock yourself out.” His shirt slipped off his shoulder, exposing his collarbone, and he tucked his cheek against his fur. “Any news on Clockwerk?”

Two years ago, Sly, Bentley, and Murray had taken on one of the most notorious gangs in the world, The Fiendish Five, to avenge the death of the Coopers, Sly’s family. The group’s leader, Clockwerk, a mechanical owl more machine than an earthling with a soul, had a serious grudge against the Coopers for ousting his seat in a local crime ring and taking the glory for themselves. Enraged and swearing revenge, he had melted away his flesh and feathers, replacing them with cold, mechanized parts with the help of some devious scientists and, reportedly, dark magic. 

Sly didn’t know if he believed in the existence of magic, but after seeing Clockwerk’s form up close, he could have been persuaded into believing anything at that point.

How naive he’d been to think the nightmare hanging over his family legacy could end with just one fight. Rumors began surfacing of powerful mechanical parts circling the deep web, and Sly had his suspicions on just what those parts were. It had only taken Bentley an hour and three cups of coffee to confirm it.

Bentley shook his head. “Nothing yet, but I’ve got the keywords tied to a notification on my phone. The minute someone searches for them, I’ll know who it is, and we can track ‘em down.”

Sly nodded past the lump in his throat and tightness in his stomach. Maybe, if they were lucky, Clockwerk’s consciousness had died in the volcano. But Sly had very rarely been lucky in his life, so he wasn’t about to take that chance.

Bentley rotated his chair, looking critically at Sly and noting the eyeliner artfully smudged around his eyes, hiding the dark circles. But he couldn’t do much to hide his bone structure; Bentley knew Sly too intimately to be fooled. And his hearing might not have been a thief’s, but he was more than familiar with some noises, at least. “Go have something to eat.” He poked Sly’s belly, making the raccoon giggle and shy away. “It’s no use being a master thief on an empty stomach.”

“I hear that,” Murray said, emerging from the bedroom. He’d clearly been practicing his makeup in preparation for the drag show later that evening. Murray had gotten involved with the local queer community and, having always been interested in drag, decided to give it a try. His alter ego, “Doll,” had been quite the hit at the club. “Can’t be a drag performer, either. Want me to make somethin, Sly?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” Sly licked his lips. “What were ya thinkin?”

“I like to eat simply before I go out. Toasted ham and cheese okay?”

“Works for me!”

Bentley smiled fondly at his brothers before turning his attention to Sly’s phone. During their search for the Five, Sly had taken to prostitution in exchange for information and money to help the struggling gang. At first, Sly had seemed okay with it, even eager, but soon, the light left his eyes, and the nightmares began. Different ones this time. After the first time Sly jumped at Murray trying to pat his shoulder, Bentley decided it was time for an intervention.

An older gentleman, known only as M, had been sexually assaulting Sly on and off for about a year and a half. Sly had kept going back out of a sense of duty, and because M had known his father, but the abuse became traumatizing, to the point where Sly admitted to dissociating until the act was finished. Bentley and Murray were horrified and encouraged Sly to break it off. But M was persistent, and aware that Sly couldn’t file a restraining order without revealing who he was. Bentley thought he’d blocked M completely, but apparently not.

It was challenging to him as a programmer but troubling to him as a friend. Sly had suffered so much at the hands of M. It seemed unfair that Sly couldn’t escape his past...though fitting, considering his legacy.

Legacy. Bentley tilted his hand to look at his signet ring. It had been left with him as a baby on the doorstep of Happy Camper orphanage, bearing his name. Bentley Wildemire. He was from a crime family, too. But he knew where his allegiance lay. Regardless of what his real name was, he might as well have been a Cooper now.

~

Sly pulled himself up onto the counter with a grunt, forcing himself to release the tension from his shoulders. The sizzling cheese on the griddle was like music to his ears, and to his nose. He’d remembered he was fiercely hungry as soon as Bentley mentioned it. When had he eaten last? The night before? Tuesday? It was hard to remember. Being reminded of M had turned his stomach...was it too late to tell Murray to eat his sandwich for him?

Probably. Murray knew when to push him about eating, which was usually always.

“What’s on your mind, pal?” Murray asked, his perfectly manicured hands working the spatula to flip over the sandwiches. (There was a plain, plant-based cheese one for Bentley, too.) Sly watched the tendons in his forearms tense and release and thought about how strong Murray was in a fight. Remembering that Murray could, and would, and did, protect him in a fight made him feel better. 

“M texted me.” Sly let out a long breath through his nose. “I hate that I can’t escape him.”

“I’m sorry,” Murray rested a hand on Sly’s thigh. “Can I do anything to help?”

Sly opened his eyes, furiously blinking back tears. “Is it okay if I come with you to the show? I promise I won’t steal anything.”

Murray snorted. “Madame Croc would bend you over her lap and spank you for it.” He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Actually...I’d really love to see that.”

Sly snorted, swatting Murray playfully. “Ugh, no thanks! Keep your kinks to yourself!” But he and Murray laughed regardless.

“Yeah, you can come,” Murray handed him a plate, serving his and Bentley’s as well. “Be my date for the evening. Throw feathers at the stage. All that jazz.”

“Sure, I’d love it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a drag show.” Sly took a huge bite of his sandwich, chittering in his throat as he chewed. “Mmmm...this is so good.”

“You’re just half-starved. It’s not that special.” Murray sat at the table to eat his sandwich, and Sly slipped off the counter to join him, leaning against his side.

It was nice to just be, to live in the moment and not think about tomorrow. At least for a little while, Sly could shed his traumas and pretend to be normal again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note! This chapter uses the word "queer" in a positive way to refer to LGBT communities. If that bothers you, this fic probably isn't the one for you.

“You sure you don't wanna come with us, Bentley?” Sly asked, tightening the black leather harness he’d pulled over his familiar navy and black striped shirt. It had become a habit for him to wear the harness around his shoulders in case he needed to do a bit of thieving at a moment’s notice, as it was helpful to hook himself to bungee cords he wore woven in a convenient bracelet around his wrists. He was also wearing gloves, made of tough material but that still looked fashionable; a rich cobalt with fishnet accents covering the glove’s back and palm. He didn’t like leaving his fingerprints anywhere. Leave no trace, and you’ll never get caught.

Bentley waved him off, smiling. “Nah, it’s not really my scene. The music’s too loud and everyone is too...friendly.” He shrugged. “I prefer my computer for company. ‘Sides, somebody has to look after the safehouse while you’re off gallivanting.”

Sly’s ears wilted, and he looked at Murray, who with his bejeweled crop top and inky black wig, impeccable makeup to flatter his face shape was clearly ready to go, and sighed. “You’re right. I should stay behind and help.”

“No, no,” Bentley wheeled forward, gently gripping Sly’s bicep. “None of that. Go out and have fun! Seriously! You deserve a break.”

“Yeah,” Murray agreed. ‘I’ll even ask Madame Croc if you can come backstage with me. Then you won’t have to be out on the floor the whole time.”

Sly’s smile returned, shy. “Really?” His eyes were wide. “I’d like that. I’m always fascinated by disguise in all its forms.” He looked at Bentley. “You’re sure, now.”

“Sure as the sky’s blue,” Bentley replied, patting Sly’s shoulder. “Keep your comm on. I’ll call if anything happens.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sly nodded. “Good compromise.”

“Sure, if you wanna call it that.” Bentley snorted, turning back to his computer. The bright dual monitors and illuminated black keyboard gave the space a futuristic feel. “Have fun, you two.”

“Okay.” Sly grinned shyly, adjusting his newsboys cap. It was old, the bright blue color faded into something that looked more like denim, run through with safety pins and small chains, different color threads patching it up where it had been torn. It was the last thing he had of his father. His mother was represented by a ring that he always wore on his opposite ring finger, inset with garnets and sapphires, representing the two families becoming one. 

All he had left of them...it wasn’t enough.

“C’mon,” Murray offered Sly his arm. “I’ll buy you a drink once we get there.”

“I could go for a sweet rum and coke,” Sly said.

“Coke with a splash of rum, more like,” Murray grumbled good-naturedly.

“As if you’re complaining!” Sly giggled, leaning heavily into Murray’s side. “Nobody needs to see me drunk these days!”

The two old friends left the safehouse, entering the beautifully illuminated neon landscape of Paris. A light rain sprinkled down onto their heads, splashing the neon colors onto the streets around them. 

Absorbed as they were in conversation, they failed to notice the presence of a leopard gecko, her lean body hidden amongst the neon lights, her hide not out of place here. Using her sticky fingerpads, she climbed up the walls of a nearby brick building, and then down the other side. Once she reached the safehouse door, she took a letter from the fanny pack at her hip and slipped it under the door. Then, looking around to make sure she hadn’t been seen, she reflexively licked her eye with her long tongue and slithered out of sight.

~

“Dolly!” A chubby crocodile in a skin tight dress and glitter in their scales ran out and greeted Murray with a big hug. “It’s good to see you again, honey!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Madame,” Murray replied as the two drag queens exchanged air kisses. 

“You’re looking good tonight, baby. Ready for the show?” Madame Croc teasingly slid her tail up Murray’s thigh.

“I just need to get into costume, then I’ll be ready.” Murray promised. “All right if Sly hangs out backstage with us?”

“Oh! Of course!” Madame Croc leaned down, her grin stretching. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your twink ass, honey. How ya been?”

“Doin okay, Madame,” Sly replied, smiling easily. He was nervous around a lot of Murray’s drag queen friends as they tended to be overly flirtatious, but he’d taken to Madame Croc about as easily as he took to any stranger these days. He kissed her hand when prompted, giggling as he rubbed excess glitter into his fur, but didn’t invite anything like a hug, which Madame Croc respected.

“You just let me know if any of the girls get handsy with you, chile,” Madame Croc said, accentuating her Louisiana accent. “I’ll string ‘em up by their g-strings!”

Sly smiled, nodding. “Okay. Thank you, Madame.”

“Of course! Everyone deserves to feel welcome here!” Madame Croc turned and crooked her finger, beckoning Murray and Sly inside. 

Compared to the cool night air, the inside of the drag house was sweltering from the heat of so many bodies. It smelled like sweat and petrichor, and the thrum of base from the club’s stage and lounge area made even the floor vibrate. Though this was different from the strip clubs that he was used to performing in, Sly still liked it quite a lot. The queer-friendly atmosphere was jovial and accepting, and the raccoon found himself weaving glitter into his tail to get into the spirit of things. He even found the energy to play flirtatious with some of the queens and performers, shaking his ass teasingly at them as he passed.

Once they reached the dressing room, Murray hurried to his makeup table. Sly was about to follow when Madame Croc gently laid a hand on his shoulder, and he stayed at the front of the room.

“Woo-ee!” Medusa, a banana ball python performer, lifted her head from her makeup table. “Do we have a new queen? Lookit that handsome man!”

A few of the other performers eagerly wolf whistled, and Sly felt his ears wilt. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like being flirtatious anymore. All he could see were hands, ready to grab him. 

“Y’all hush up, now,” Madame Croc bellowed, and the queens fell silent for their mother. “This handsome piece of work is Sly. You are to treat him with respect while he’s here. He’s had a history of bad turns, so play nice and ask first.”

“Ooh, he’s Dolly’s man,” whispered Princess Prick, a black cat, to the performer next to her. 

“Sure,” Murray crooned in his queen voice, “if you count siblings.”

A chorus of “ooh”s went up in the room and Madame Croc knocked her tail against the wall. “I mean it, ladies,” she hissed. “Play nice, or else I’ll rip your balls off.”

“Yes, Madame,” the performers replied. The crocodile, satisfied, turned and went out to the main stage. 

“Here, honey,” a young giraffe stood up, making her way towards the front of the room, “You can sit down next to Dolly. Name’s Savannah Sweet, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Sly smiled shyly. “Sorry ‘bout the fuss...I just don’t like being in the club by myself.”

“I totally get it,” said a day gecko as they passed, turning in her chair. “Sometimes, all they see is a pretty face and they don’t ask any questions.”

“You’re safe with us, sweetheart,” A black bear reassured him, gently patting his shoulder as he passed.

“Thanks,” Sly sat down on a folding chair near Murray’s bench, leaning against the hippo while he finished his drag transformation.

“Can I get you a drink, honey?” Savannah Sweet asked.

“Run and coke, light on the rum?” Sly asked sheepishly.

“Comin right up, darling!” Savannah Sweet promised, slipping out of the dressing room.

Sly closed his eyes, letting the chatter of the performers wash over him. He might not like being close to other people, but it was better than being out on the dance floor.

That brought back way too many memories.


End file.
